"If I had only known, it would have saved a lot of misery, both to poor old Bob and me," mused Gerrard ruefully. "But how could I possibly tell! When you asked so much about Charteris, of course I thought you cared for him."
"As if I could ever have talked about him to you if I had cared for him!" said Honour in disdain. Gerrard mused upon this revelation for a moment.
"Well, I don't see how I could have known," he said at last.
"Why, I told you!" cried Honour—"when you went away."
"I thought you must have meant that—just for a moment. But then you ran away, and would not even say good-bye to me."
"How could I, when I had just told you—shouted it out before everybody? But I hid behind Mrs Antony and watched you go. I—I kissed my hand to you," shamefacedly.
"And I was bustled off, and never knew! Dear one, you have only yourself and my stupidity to thank if you marry a failure. What might I not have done if I had known you cared!"
"Perhaps you might not have known it then as well as you do now," whispered Honour shyly. "It—it must be you, you know, not your success, or——"
"So it is! But you won't insist on my remaining a failure always, for
I'm hanged if I do. With you to inspire—to help——"
Could it be the silent, reserved Honour whose transfigured face was raised to his. "Oh, you will let me, you think I can?" she breathed. "I wanted, so dreadfully, to help people when I first came out, but no one seemed to want it—or else they just asked me to marry them——"